The Santa Episode
Title: The Santa Episode
Rating: PG 13
Word Count: 900
Summary: Draco takes Albus to the mall to see Santa
Author’s notes: Written for:
awdt's Christmas prompt 9: Santa’s Chair
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
“Come on, Father! Santa’s this way!”
Draco sighed and allowed himself to be dragged through the crowd by his messy haired mini torpedo. He was still not entirely sure how he’d managed to get roped into Santa Duty, but he was pretty sure there had been some underhanded trickery involved. Perhaps he should have paid a bit more attention when Harry, Granger and Weasley had jumped up screeching “Not it! Not it!”
Blasted Gryffindors.
On the bright side, at least he only had one little blighter herding him around. Scorpius had been sensible enough to decline the invite- turning his nose up at “commercialized traditionalism” and James was “way too old to believe in the whole Santa Claus thing. Hey, has anyone seen my loose molar? The Tooth Fairy doesn’t play around, you know!”
Draco had given up there and then. Now here he was- maneuvering Albus through a throng of Muggles at the ‘mall’ and wading through a tidal wave of crazed Christmas shoppers who were apparently out for blood. He scowled as a woman shoved past him rudely, nearly knocking him over.
“Come on, Father!” Albus insisted, tugging at his hand.”We’re going to miss Santa!”
“We are not going to miss your blasted fat man in a suit,” Draco informed him, dusting himself off. “Just stay close to me. I don’t want to lose you in this crowd.”
“Fine.” Albus had the gall to treat him to a long suffering sigh. Despite himself, Draco’s lips quirked and he had to struggle to look stern. “Don’t take that tone with your father, young man.”
“But you’re being silly,” Albus insisted. “There’s no reason to be afraid of Santa!”
“I am not afraid of Santa, Albus. I just…are those leather boots?”
Momentarily distracted, Draco found himself drawn to one of the countless display windows- admiring a pair of patent leather boots. Maybe muggles did get some things right. He turned to share his enlightened thoughts with his son, only to find himself utterly lacking in messy haired, pint-sized people. Draco’s heart plummeted. Albus was missing.
“Albus?” he called out, trying to dismiss the frantic quiver echoing in his voice. The sheer surge of people seemed to be all around him, jostling and fighting their way through. His son was somewhere in there, possibly lost and Draco was about ready to succumb to a full blown fit when a welcome sign caught his eye.
Santa’s Workshop Right This Way!
Draco hurtled through the crowd, elbowing his way over to Santa blooming Claus. Albus had to be there. He had to. Oh Merlin, what if he wasn’t? How was Draco ever going to find him in this…
A familiar mop of messy hair suddenly caught his attention and Draco skidded to an immediate halt, practically deflating with relief. Albus! The child was standing in front of a giant…throne of some sort. It was red and gold and nauseatingly Gryffindor like and surrounded inexplicably with statues of reindeer and elves. Merlin, help him. Seated on said throne was an odd sort- a fat, bearded, red faced character in a scarlet monstrosity that made Draco’s stomach sway. Albus whooped in delight and bounded off towards the bearded man before Draco could react.
“Ho ho ho, young fellow!” the fat man crowed, beckoning his son forward. “Why don’t you come on down and sit on my lap and we’ll see about that present, eh?”
That's when it happened.
Considering the circumstances, Draco felt himself completely justified. The sight of an old, leering stranger bribing his little boy into sitting on his lap for a present had completely undone him. So Draco did what any responsible parent would have done. He leaped across the rickety, plastic fence acting as a barrier and lunged for his target, wrenching the filthy pedophile off his chair and up by the collar.
“Get away from my son, you foul pervert!”
****
Two hours later, Harry was ushering home a glowering Draco and a rather chirpy Albus. Neither had volunteered to tell him what exactly had transpired at that mall. Although considering the glares he got from the security personnel- it had to be pretty bad. A passing five year old gave Draco the stink eye and Harry shook his head wearily.
“I’m going to ask one more time- what the hell happened in there?”
“I’d rather not say,” Draco sniffed. “All I know is we are never bringing our children to this foul establishment again.”
Of course. Harry turned to his son. “Albus? Anything you want to tell me?”
“Father is so getting coal in his stocking for Christmas,” the child responded promptly, shooting Draco a cheeky grin.
“Brat,” Draco retorted, with a faint smile.
Harry gave up. “Fine! Don’t tell me!” he exclaimed exasperatedly. “Let’s just go home.”
As he trudged off, he caught a glance of Albus taking Draco’s hand and patting him consolingly. “It’s okay, Father. You can share my presents!”
Harry couldn’t help it. He smiled too.